In vocal communication I tend to use rough and coarse language; that makes it rather fascinating that I’m anal about my written language. Except for prepositions. I don’t give a crap about ‘em. And spelling. I never use spell checkers; if I don’t know how to spell a word, I’m prepared to live with the shame. In general, I suppose that I’m not really anal about my written language per se - I’m anal about my grammar.
One thing that constantly fascinates me is the grammar splice errors that pop up everywhere. Literally everywhere: newspapers, literature, web pages, reports… I’ve seen it in a web comic just now. I saw it in a Pratchett book yesterday. It doesn’t matter whether it’s in Swedish or English or German - people seem to have a fetish for abusing the poor old comma in strange and horrible ways. It’s like people have collectively decided that comma is the weird fat kid who should get beaten up every recess. You know, that kid who spends all his time at the library; people are stupid and mean and he doesn’t understand them, but books are kind and helpful and comforting. Oh, the horrors poor comma-boy has seen! He has seen the hearts of children, and they are black as the night.
Anyway, I mentioned the term comma splice, but I didn’t know about it until five minutes ago. I had planned to write a post about this horrible comma misuse, and decided to check the comma Wikipedia page before I embarked on this glorious task; that’s where I found that some kind soul had placed a link to the aforementioned comma splice definition page. Okay, I think I’ve mentioned comma splice about as many times as I can without explaining what it is: comma splice is when two independent clauses are joined without a binding word in between them.
Here’s an example:
John was tired, he wanted to go home.
I assume that you immediately see what the problem is with the sentence above, but just in case I’d better elaborate a bit. “John was tired” is an independent clause. It’s a perfectly correct sentence on its own; it has a subject, a predicate and an adverb as well. “He wanted to go home” is also an independent clause; it can stand on its own. These two can never be joined by just a comma! All that’s needed to correct this is to add a single conjunction:
John was tired and he wanted to go home.
Even a semicolon would make things better:
John was tired; he wanted to go home.
I get so frustrated when people make this mistake. I really don’t see why. Spelling mistakes I can understand. Not knowing the difference between an adverb and an adjective is fine. Not caring the least about grammar is also fine. But this jumps out at you (well, at me at least): it’s so fundamentally incorrect! It’s not even colloquial - it’s just plain wrong. In every language known to man. And by man I mean me. Which means just a measly few languages. But still.
For the observant: yes, I just wrote an incomplete sentence. See, I’m not a grammar nazi - it’s just this comma splice that annoys me to no end.
In case you’re not familiar with the product, BlitzMax is an object-oriented programming language (plus environment) which is the evolution of the old BlitzBasic for the Amiga. Personally I never used BB on the Amiga - I went for assembly programming instead. When I jumped over to the PC platform it was natural for me to move to x86 assembly; however, eventually a friend’s interest in C/C++ made me check out the excellent Watcom compiler, and I slowly but inexorably began a hike toward higher level languages. The first use I had for C was to generate pre-calculated tables which I used in assembly code, but I soon realized that object-oriented programming increased my productivity; there was no going back to assembly after that. However, that’s as far as I went - when it came to larger projects I just didn’t feel comfortable with languages that were of an even higher level than C++.
That is, up until a year ago. I read some game developers’ comments about BlitzMax and decided to check it out. It felt very strange to go from C++ to a language that is basically Basic on steroids (with object-oriented features added.) But after I had done a quick game concept I realized the power and the potential of such a language. I also put together a simple game called Santa Shooter, and was impressed by how fast the development time was. I think the whole game took a week to put together, but I blame that extensive time on some trouble I had with bitmapped fonts.
Then what happened? I made a very simple concept for Sheeplings with BlitzMax; but around this time the 30-day demo expired. Tragedy! Loss! Panic! What to do?
I generally view myself as a law-abiding citizen, but I have some principles. For example: I never buy a game if I haven’t played it enough to be sure that I love it. There are exceptions to that rule, of course: Heroes of Might and Magic V, We Love Katamari, Dragon Quest 8… Some games I just buy instantly, without bothering to see if I’ll be satisfied. With BlitzMax, I just wasn’t convinced that I’d be using the language for anything else than toying around. And I really don’t buy products for that reason. (Around this time, developers will have started frowning and muttering curses at me. But wait, it gets worse.)
So what did I do about the BlitzMax issue? I spent an hour reading some cracking tutorials on the net, downloaded the appropriate programs (along with an x86 opcode table), and wrote a quick crack for BlitzMax. (This is probably where software developers have started to foam at the mouth. But wait - I promise that it gets better before the end!)
I will of course not mention what tools I used, or any of the procedures in cracking the program. Or what file to crack, for that matter. Or any details at all. But I must mention that the patch I made required only two bytes to be changed, in order to remove the time restrictions on the demo. Two bytes is not much at all. I won’t say that it’s easy for a generic programmer to crack the application, but I do believe that the BlitzMax author spent his time developing a great product instead of bothering with copy protection schemes all that much. And I also believe that this was the correct choice.
See, I started working (sporadically) on Sheeplings and finally got to where I felt that it might actually become a decent game. It wasn’t until a few months ago that BlitzMax had “proven itself” in my eyes; by then I knew that the language was right for me, and that I’d be able to produce a decent product with it. Now I’ve of course coughed up the measly sum of $80 for BlitzMax, and I’ve no doubts that I made an excellent purchase. But if I’d spent that money a year ago I would’ve felt unsatisfied. By now I would have lost my doubts…but what if that hadn’t been the case? What if I felt that BlitzMax wasn’t right for me? From my point of view, this would have been the result:
- I would’ve lost $80.
- I would’ve lost time and effort, developing for a language that I ultimately felt was a dead-end.
- In short, I would have paid for the privilege of losing time I could have spent being productive in other ways.
In comparison, if I had cracked the program and then realized that it wasn’t useful for me, this would’ve happened:
- I would’ve lost time and effort.
- The developer of BlitzMax wouldn’t have gained $80. (Note: not “lost $80.” I would not have stolen the money in any way - I only deprived him of potential gain.)
- We both would have ended up unsatisfied, but I wouldn’t have become bitter about spending money in an unsatisfactory way. In this case I only had myself to blame.
Many people have a zero-tolerance policy toward software piracy, but I can’t help feel that it is justified in some cases. I have no problem with paying for things (as long as I can afford it) but I don’t make impulse purchases; if I’m faced with the choice of pay now or stop using the application, I’ll definitely choose to quit using the program altogether if I don’t feel that I have enough information yet. In some people’s view that’s fine - the developer has made a restriction, and it’s his decision that if I haven’t made up my mind I should go elsewhere. But in the case of BlitzMax (and other games and applications) the end result was a gain for the developer. I would never have paid up a year ago, but I did now.
Note: of course this can’t be applied to all people and all software. Some people just don’t want to pay for their goods, and some software is meant to be bought and used in a spontaneous manner. The situation can vary as well: a lack of money typically makes paying for stuff rather difficult. I might even be moving more and more toward impulse purchases as my income increases - who knows.
I find it irritating that I can’t produce good art. I am a good programmer and I can make pretty good music. I can write decently. I can do pencil sketches half-decently as well. But I can’t produce good art - something’s just lacking for me. As an example, here’s the second map I made for Sheeplings:
It’s for quest 2, in which the bandits are introduced. You can see their bandit cottages at the left; oh, and the blue spots here and there is rain falling down. I think that the map looks pretty nice - it’s cheerful but a bit more desaturated than the first map, bringing it a slightly more sombre tone. The large patches of grey mountains also add to this, of course. I think I was going for a typical Star Wars pacing: the first quest is happy and full of…well…hope. The second becomes darker, and then it all ends in a climax in the third quest.
The map may look nice (at least to me), but it doesn’t look good. It’s like comparing a Toyota to a Ferrari: the former does the job, but no one’s particularly impressed. Except maybe the ones who own a rusty old Dodge or something.
Why can’t I do better than this? I really don’t know. I can move my pen around, and I can select colours that sort of work together. But after that, it still just looks flat, and like it’s missing something.
I wish there were tutorials on the net focusing more on artistic details than technical issues. Composition and emotional impact and information about how to make subtle but effective variations. Information about how to convey the message of, for example, mountain or forest with only a few lines; information about what makes people automatically associate some details with a specific object or instance or emotion.
Maybe this is what people learn in art school? Or maybe it’s an ability you’re born with? I’m the first to admit that I sometimes have trouble understanding and relating to others; my empathy and social skills aren’t always top notch. Maybe that’s something that’s required for a good artist?
When I have more time I think I’ll browse around for good books on this topic. I’m sure I saw a reference to a book along the lines of “drawing with the right side of the brain” or something; that sounds like an excellent book to examine! ‘Cause I’ve realized that I actually enjoy drawing despite my shame of performing so poorly at it.
It appears that I’m doing something correct with my uber-cute sheepherding game called Sheeplings: a few days ago I posted my second iteration (version 0.2) on a few message boards, and the response has - all in all - been good. Some things, most notably the graphics, are still not up to par, but the gameplay seems to be pretty appreciated. Yayness!
Appreciated is a relative term, of course. I doubt the addictiveness of Sheeplings, but the majority of the ones who have tested the second version seem to think that it’s enjoyable. That’ll do for me; I’m not going for a hit game - I’m going for good enough. If only the graphics could be improved further. There are very few complaints about the music, and this is something I did not foresee. The case might be that they judge it in comparison with the graphics: since the look isn’t top notch, they don’t expect the music to be any better either. Either way, I’m thankful that my wee tunes aren’t instantly frowned upon.
Here’s a little screenshot in which you can’t see anything:
And here’s the download link in case you want to try the game:
http://www.sheeplings.com/Sheeplings.exe
Please note
- The options cannot be modified yet.
- Only the default profile is present.
- The side quest cannot be solved in the demo.
- User-defined keys aren’t available just yet, but there are three ways of controlling the game: mouse, keyboard and gamepad.
Keyboard: cursor keys + space
Gamepad: default 2-axis control + button 1
No need to select which control to use; you can switch between mouse/keyboard/gamepad at any time.
- If you happen to experience some graphical glitches, would you please try editing the generated profile file (called “Karja”). The attribute “renderer” can be set to 0 or 1 - this indicates whether it prefers to try DirectX or OpenGL first.
- If you don’t want to play through all the levels to gain tokens, you can edit “Karja” and set the “tokens” attribute to anything you wish.
Any feedback is much appreciated!
It seems that TerraNova has an infatuation with this report on net neutrality. The report - summarized very briefly - examines networking, Voice over IP, online gaming, ISP power, latency and much more, and eventually comes to the conclusion that online gaming is the most vulnerable potential casualty if net neutrality is lost. I.e., if ISPs are free to prioritize traffic as they wish, and potentially making latency for online games too high to endure. Read the report for more information; it’s a good read.
I have a few spontaneous comments to all of this…
- Why is TerraNova being blocked at my job? I don’t get it. It allows all kinds of vile sites, but not this one. They must’ve had lots of porn once, but - alas - it’s all gone now.
- Doesn’t the capitalist way work in the ISP case? As far as I know no ISP has a monopoly, and there would probably always be a lesser evil to choose from; an ISP that doesn’t throttle online gaming protocols for example. Of course, this would take time. Online games would suffer until the ISPs note what the market wants.
- Speaking of online games… I used to play some Quake 2 now and then, but after that I’ve never bothered with any of these action-based games. But there are other online games. I used to play Freeciv some time ago, for example. And other strategy games after that. I really dislike this theft of the words online gaming, since it indicates that bad latency would be the downfall of all online games. It would only affect action-themed games!
- The report mentions that “out of all the victims of the loss of net neutrality, online gaming is likely to be the most fragile and irreplaceable.” Very true (except for point 3 above); but maybe it’s due to an obvious reason: gaming is a relatively big industry, but is it big compared to enterprise businesses? VoIP is mentioned in the report as another technology that is highly dependent on low latency. But the two aren’t comparable: gaming is for home-consumers, while VoIP advocates come from huge corporations. The report says (under the subtitle For developers and publishers of online games) that “flexing some muscle as both big spenders and influences on the user is the optimal path for guarding the status quo,” but even if developers and publishers started flexing, they’d look like computer geeks next to the muscular mega corporation pressure coming from other places. (I find that simile rather amusing and fitting.)
- A better solution might be to try to take advantage of the possible Quality of Service arrangements that might become available through enterprise pressure; ride on that wave instead of fighting an unnecessarily hard battle.
Of course, I could be wrong about the fourth point. I don’t have any reports or real facts to back it up. And point five is vague as well: VoIP support is still rather sketchy, so who knows what improvements will happen there - and if they’ll only happen within corporate networks. But hey, I’m just tossing out my opinion here!
For my own amusement I decided to make a list of the books I’ve read lately, and If I recall correctly it looks something like this:
Jingo - Terry Pratchett
Human Prehistory and the First Civilizations - The Teaching Company
Thud! - Terry Pratchett
The Wee Free Men - Terry Pratchett
American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Memories, Dreams, Reflections - Carl Jung
Snow Crash - Neil Stephenson
Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand
So, what does this say about me? First of all, I’m a sucker for Terry Pratchett and his Discworld books. In fact, the next book I read will be Wintersmith: the third book in the Tiffany Aching series (the others are The Wee Free Men and A Hat Full of Sky.) Technically, I think these books are for young people, but I adore the little pictsies so I ignore that.
Secondly, it shows that I’m (as always) a pretentious bastard. I mean…who voluntarily delves into history books and a book where a famous psychologist reflects on his own life? The first one was a bit of a disappointment; the reader was a pompous prick, and the book wasn’t really structured all that interestingly. The second one was better and in fact quite interesting.
Thirdly, this list proves that I’m a generic nerd-geek; Pratchett, Stephenson, Gaiman and Rand are probably well-read among the geeks who read books. (It always comes as a surprise to me, but some geeky people actually don’t read all that much!) The last author is what I decided to make a special comment about, however.
Ayn Rand was a Russian-born writer who turned philosopher. Or vice versa, depending on how you view it. She started by writing novels in which she presented and perfected her idea about the theory of Objectivism; Atlas Shrugged is the most famous of her novels, and also the last fictional one she wrote before she went hardcore philosopher. When I was younger I frequented various message boards and often got tempted into discussions about ethics and morals and economics and politics and whatnot. Rand was one author that many pro-capitalist people referred to as a source for their ideas, but I never took the time to check out exactly what she had written. Now I have read one book at least, and there are some things that I find interesting:
- I like the setting and the twists. Atlas Shrugged is never dull. But…
- …it can’t be helped: Rand is not a very good author per se. She tells a story decently, but the character development is non-existent and the book feels artificial.
- Following that thought, the speeches that occur now and then are laughable. Not the contents of the speeches, but the sudden outbursts of philosophical ideas. The characters don’t feel real - they are just Rand’s tools for presenting her thoughts.
- I disagree with Rand’s philosophy in general, but she has some nice points…
- …such as valuing productivity. It’s eerie, noticing how many of her values are the same ones I judge myself by. However, I feel that her next step is rather egocentrical: she applies these set of values to others as well; she makes a general philosophy out of something that I feel is relative and personal. In other words, to me it seems like her philosophy is based on hubris and a lack of empathy.
I’m not going into details about Objectivism or my own critique of it; I only read the book for personal enjoyment and not in order to analyze it. Doing the latter takes too much time and effort for something that I ultimately don’t feel is as earth-shaking as many others seem to think.
All in all, the book is worth a read. I liked it well enough even if I got annoyed at some details. And it’s always refreshing to read new ideas.
A pet peeve of mine is people’s tendency to post useless and uninteresting information everywhere. It might be part of human nature, but it’s still a moronic thing to do…IMNSHO. I’m sure you can figure out what that abbreviation stands for.
“Aren’t you being just a tad hypocritical here,” is the obvious response to my comment. “You’re writing a blog filled with personal opinions; and look just a few days ago: you wrote a long post about your vacation! It’s of no practical use to anyone.”
Well, that’s fine, in my opinion. I may post useless information, but I try to make it interesting. It’s just when things are both useless and uninteresting that things get really ugly. A perfect example of this is people’s public diaries on web communities. Or personal blogs. Or whatever is the currently popular way to exercise exhibitionistic tendencies. I don’t mind if the posts are written coherently and with an idea about their audience, though.
Since I like lists, I decided to make a short list of the combination of blog traits that I thoroughly hate:
- Short and pointless posts
“Today I fed my cat and watched Oprah. Yay me!”
Argh! Why do you post this? For whom is it intended? Who cares? If it was long and pointless it might be an interesting read, but the combination of short and pointless makes it…well. Pointless!
- The public paradox
“Oh, yesterday was awful! He was there! And he, like, looked at me!”
Some people have the urge to write about their personal events, but they also feel that they don’t need to give details about the context. Who is he? Why is it a strange thing that he looked at you? If I don’t know any of this, your post is pointless! In itself, this style of writing isn’t bad - it’s an excellent way of communicating with friends. Or in IMs. But don’t post this information on a public place where everyone is invited to read it unless you make all the information available; it becomes a paradox, where you try to be public and private at the same time.
Note: of course there are exceptions where this is okay. If the writer knows that his or her reader base is fully aware of the events, this isn’t a big deal. It only becomes an issue if these posts are promoted for public viewing somehow.
- De-personalized summary
“This blog is interesting: [Quote]”
I see a lot of posts that quote articles or other blogs or post a cool link somewhere, without adding anything to the original post. Why? What’s the point of posting the information on your own place without adding a personal touch? I seriously don’t get the point. Sure, it adds a tiny bit: the fact that the poster likes or dislikes or finds the thing linked to/quoted interesting. But it really could use a brief explanation of why this is of value to him or her. I thoroughly believe that there is not a single link or quote that says this by itself: people’s opinions and reactions are too diverse.
This post’s title is misleading: I’m not really asking why people write useless and uninteresting things. We all have a lesser or greater exhibitionistic streak, and we all have a lesser or greater need for writing down our thoughts - these two can easily be combined in blogs and such. I don’t oppose this in any way. I just wish that people would think a little bit about their audience as well before they post something.
What inspired me to write down this rant of mine? A while ago I wrote a post about my new computer. To some, that information is completely useless; but to some it might be of interest to see what kind of components other people have chosen. I decided that this information was potentially interesting to some of my intended readers. (Technically inclined people with various cultural and geek interests.) A few days after that I thought about posting another post; this one would deal with my stupidity in not buying a new power supply at the same time as the rest of the parts.
However, after a few paragraphs I realized that the potential interest of that post was virtually zero! It might have been mildly amusing, and it might have made someone else avoid making my mistake…but the potential interest in it was lower than usual. I post random weird stuff now and then, but I try to analyze whether or not it is of potential interest to others. I wish more people would do that.
It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of Michael Moorcock: a few years ago I thoroughly admired his writing and his astonishing amount of output not only in literature, but in music as well. These days I don’t get the same thrill at picking up a novel of his, but I still think that he’s absolutely brilliant. And Elric is and will always be a magnificent character; where else do you find such a stereotypical moping goth anti-hero? I love melodrama, after all.
(I have to put in a footnote here. Or rather, a mid-note. Or middle-note. Or meso-note or something. Above I wrote “I’m a big fan of Michael Moorcock” but I tend to see the form “I’m a big fan of his” more often. Does that mean that there ought to be a possessive noun instead? “I’m a big fan of Moorcock’s” for example? Or is it just possessive when it’s a pronoun? Oh well, I’ll just leave it like it is.)
In 2001 I was travelling all around the US. My trip took me from NY to NC to FL to TN to IL to OH to WI to all kinds of weird two-letter abbreviations. The trip changed me in many ways, and it also strengthened my prejudices about America in other ways. Either way, for reasons I won’t go into here, I found myself alone and abandoned in Chicago at one time during wintertime, wandering the place aimlessly. Eventually I found a broken-down hostel in the slums that charged a fiver per night (mostly because there was no heating at all there) where I decided to read a collection of Moorcock stories. I can’t for the life of me remember what the story was called, and I’ve since then lost the book, but one of the stories was a short piece on the Eternal Champion who found himself waking up in a sled, travelling over a wintery landscape. That’s when the inspiration struck me for this parody. If you haven’t read any Moorcock, it’s probably just as enjoyable anyway. And no, I’m not really trying to be subtle.
The Eternal Champion
The first memory I can recall is that of the icy wind biting hard into my face. I travelled at blazing speed inside a strange large sled as I traversed a frozen plain that seemed to stretch out forever in all directions. I had no idea where I was going or who I was; dream-like memories of a previous life - or several lives - flowed through my thoughts, yet I had no idea why I now found myself in this vehicle pulled by fierce-looking horned beasts. I leaned back in the large seat and squinted in the hard wind, shivering slightly as I gazed out over the wintery landscape.
My attire was blood-red and thick, lined with soft fur to protect me from the bitter cold. The grim colour I wore stirred memories within me: I recalled being a warrior time and time again. I had been called a multitude of different names, and I had fought for more causes than I could fathom. Yet, the names I had worn and the places I had been at eluded me. My past seemed to be one shrouded in dark mysterious secrets. All I could remember was being a champion for these countless causes, willingly as well as unwillingly, through as many different lives. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I realised I was yet again on my way to fight for someone else’s just or unjust cause. This seemed to be the very reason for my existence. Who was I? Where had I come from? Where or to whom was the sled taking me? And - this thought troubled me constantly - was there no other reason for my being, than endless struggle?
For many hours I travelled in my strange sled, haunted by vague memories tauntingly keeping just out of my reach. At last I received something else to occupy my tortured mind: in the distance I beheld a fort of cyclopean proportions, and it was most definitely my destination, judging from my vehicle’s direction. I vaguely pondered if I should try stopping the beasts and approach a trifle more discretely. After some brief thinking I decided against it; I did not know where I was, and the large construct getting closer and closer was my only hope of receiving some answers. There was no use in delaying what indeed seemed inevitable.
As I neared the fort I saw myriad of small creatures standing outside, obviously awaiting my arrival. They grinned, I imagined, but from this distance I could not surely tell. The sled moved closer until I could make out their slightly pointed hats and their green attire. Finally my vehicle stopped just outside the enormous building and the creatures greeted me energetically with a chattering I did not understand, and fierce grins. They were eager to take me into the fort, and I did not resist. However eager, they were yet anxious and obviously in quite some reverence of the person I now were. This enforced my beliefs that I once again was a chosen warrior, destined to fight whatever obstacle that fate now needed me to overcome. As I beheld the inside of the gigantic building, after they had led me in through an enormous bronze gate wide as dozens of men, I gasped at the sight before my eyes. Within was a factory, and countless numbers of these little beings worked tirelessly at strange machines, producing strange objects. I dared not guess what purpose this factory served out here in the cold wastes, but it seemed certain now why I was here: I had to free these creatures from the slavery they apparently had been put into. The fort was not a military construct as I had thought at first €“ it was a place of slave labour. Pained memories came to me unbidden: I remembered freeing wretched starving slaves before. I recalled enslaving people myself. There was never a way to decide if what I had to do was good or of evil; I seem to be forced to work for balance instead, no matter how it may tear at my soul to be forced into actions I could not emphatically approve of. This time it seemed my cause was just and right, though. I nodded grimly to the poor small creatures, promising myself to deal out swift and lethal punishment onto their captors.
I was led out to the sled again by the cheering and chattering small beings, and in my hand they pressed a long list as they filled my vehicle with the manufactured goods. I nodded; the plan was clear to me. The enslavers were expecting a load of their slaves’ hard work, and I was to be the delivering person instead of the normal one. Again I silently promised swift death to the ones responsible for this slavery, as I skimmed through the list in my hand. It seemed almost unending, filled with names of the ones I had to destroy. This would take a very long time, and the struggle would be fierce; but I would be victorious. I entered the sled again, accompanied by the cheering of the small creatures. I had had many names: now I recalled several of them. Corum, Elric, Hawkmoon and innumerable others. This time they called me by a new name. As the sled magically arose from the icy landscape into the air, fated to bring me to my destinations, I could hear the cheering of the small beings below. They now called me Santa.
You know you’ve read too much Neil Gaiman when you feel the urge to write metaphorical semi-fantasy poems involving goddesses.
The Goddess of Love is a pitiful thing
With tresses of gold, on her bed
She’s lying unwanted, un-prayed-for and cold
Her beauty resembles the dead
She raises her hand with a delicate grace
Resenting her lovely visage
Her sisters arrive, young and pretty and full
So vivid - a lovely mirage
The Goddess of Longing, of Wistful Desire
Approaches the Goddess of eld
The Goddess of Love nods and bids her to stay
And begs desperately to be held
“I lie here alone, weak and pale as you see
While my sisters have power to lend
The Goddess of Love should be highest of all
But I’m weak and I cannot pretend”
The Goddess of Lust smells of perfume and sex
And smiles to her elder with glee
“Foremost of us, but discarded by Man
None offer prayers to thee
Man does not pray to the Goddess of Love
When he prays, he is full of desire
But once he has love, his is sated and full
He thinks love cannot ever expire”
I think I got the idea when I read Gaiman’s Smoke and Mirrors: I thought of a scene with depressing and/or depraved gods and goddesses, and especially the goddess of love. I reasoned that if people would pray for something, they would pray for something they lacked. Once love was granted, the need for it was sated - i.e., no more prayers. Lust and Longing, in comparison, only grant instant gratification, so they would constantly receive their prayers even if they are of “lesser worth” in the long run.
(Oh, and I’m not just throwing in capitalized words here and there. The concept of love isn’t capitalized, for example, but the personification is. Just noticed that it looked pretty haphazard in the paragraph above.)
At first I thought of Love’s character as arrogant and demanding - she would claim that all of mankind loves her, and that she is the highest goal. Still, she would sit alone on her gilded throne, not understanding why she waned away. It was supposed to be a short story…but eventually I felt that a poem would suit this idea better. And along with that came the change to Love’s character: she became a tragic and weak creature instead.
It wonder if this could be expanded into a decent story.
For some time now I’ve felt that I’ve lost my adventurous touch; I get up in the mornings, go to work, get home, watch movies, get drunk now and then, work on hobby projects, spend some time with friends occasionally - and so on. Nothing may be static per se, but everything still felt a bit stagnant right now. So I took some of my vacation days and went on a spontaneous trip to Cyprus - the lovely divided island where Europe and the Middle East meets. I booked a flight but refused to look for hotels beforehand; instead I relied on Lonely Planet’s excellent guidebook. My trip can be summarized like this:
- Seven nights, four locations. I grew restless pretty quickly.
- Countless beers.
- Countless miles traversed in buses, taxis, by bike or by walking.
- 213 photos taken.
- Only one person in all of Cyprus knows how to make a good White Russian.
- A dozen ancient sites ranging from medieval forts to Roman and Ancient Greek excavation sites.
- I’ve learned that cute bartenders from Belarus who wear skirts short enough to leave nothing to the imagination are impossible to drink under the table. And she even got me to pay for the drinks. Bitch. This was probably the first time I saw a girl with tattooed eyebrows.
- Stray cats everywhere.
- I got stuck on a cold and misty mountain at nightfall in the middle of a pouring rain, and the police searched for six hours before they found me. I left the hotel at 11 AM thinking that I’d be back before evening; the police located me around midnight. Thank the gods that I had a fully loaded cell phone and that the Lonely Planet book had the emergency number listed.
But since a picture says more than a thousand words, I might as well offer over 38000 words instead of writing a novel about all of this:
Yay, I’m going to Cyprus! And I got the crappiest seat ever!
After I arrived in Larnaca I decided to go check out Ayia Napa for a while. What do I do in the city of decadence; the city of debauchery; the city of sin? I rent a bike, pack my bag full with beer and go exploring.
It may not be the yellow brick road of Oz, but it sure leads me somewhere strange. Hey, that cape out there looks interesting! I’ll go check it out.
What the hell happened to this path? Things got much worse before I found a decent road again.
The other side of the cape! I found this gorgeous beach with Caribbean-like water. Go me! I wonder just how far I’d biked.
This monastary in Ayia Napa was gorgeous! I’m not sure if I liked it better in the dark or in daylight. It looked pretty mysterous at night.
Time to go to the next city. Limassol (Lemessos) here I come! A lovely seaside place with a medieval fort, archaeological sites nearby, a few meh-like beaches, lots of shops and many many bars.
The fort was dead close to the old harbour, and the cafes nearby took full advantage of the fact. Cheesy, but nice suit of armour. I think I’m the only one ever interested in the old olive press reconstruction they’d set up next to the fort.
Outside of Limassol there are three interesting archaeological sites. First there’s a generic medieval fort (the first pic). Then comes a wonderful site filled with finds from different periods: an old amphitheatre (reconstructed above), a Roman agora, a Roman villa, a gladiator training house, old Christian structures and on and on. All right next to a marvellous seascape; my louse pics don’t do this place justice at all! Almost as an afterthought there’s also an old religious site nearby, where a cult dedicated to Apollon started hanging around. It was built on top of the site of an even older religious cult. Religion was thick in the air. But I’m not pondering theological questions in the pic on the lower right; the shadow shows me wondering just how these pillars were constructed. Why are there holes in the middle? Is it from the excavation? Is it some natural tendency of this stone? Was it deliberately done by the builders - did they use a center of a harder stone for stability? I have no idea.
I eventually got bored with this as well and went to Platres instead - a village up in the Troödos mountains. I felt like I needed a day away from alcohol, and wanted to stretch my legs.
Here’s the village in all its…pride. The Romanian woman working at the hotel was not very impressed with neither the place nor Cyprus; she advised me to go to Spain on my next vacation.
A lovely nature trail led me up to the Caledonian Falls. God damn, it was cold. I only wore a thin shirt since I wanted to spare my jacket for when the rain stopped; I figured I’d need something dry by then. After the waterfall I continued upward along one of the few roads available. Man, I don’t know if that’s mist or clouds. Long way down either way.
Eventually I found myself walking a misty mountain trail trailing trailingly off into the endless trails in the Troödos mountains. I thought I was taking a scenic route back to Platres, but oh no. Note the picture on the right. This is all the information present on these trails. Bloody Cypriots. By now it was raining hard, I had lost my wet shirt and only wore my now wet thin jacket, and I was laughing out loud at the ambiguous signs everywhere. “Yeah, you can go…this way! Or that way! What, you want to know what lies in what direction? Screw you! It’s all going in a loop anyway.” I was not laughing about an hour after this when I was tired and cold and it was getting dark and I had walked for I don’t know how many hours.
I’m actually extremely grateful for the helpful police; many people worked together to find me, and they told me how lucky I was that I had a mobile phone. I still think that I could have found my way to a road eventually, and that it would have led me somewhere. Eventually. But after they found me it was still half an hour’s brisk walk with flashlight to get to the very closest dirt road, so I shudder at thinking of how many more hours I could’ve walked around in the mountains, embraced by darkness and thick mist that didn’t let me see more than 20 meters ahead. Oh, and did I mention that I lost my passport up there as well, somehow? It’s a wonder that I got back to Sweden at all - the customs officers watched me veeeery suspiciously.
After this little adventure, I just spent the rest of the time in Larnaca.
Larnaca is pretty nice; beautiful buildings, weird tavernas, beaches and submarine trips. I really ought to have taken a trip in that sub! By the last day I realized that I’d forgotten to take the obligatory see-how-much-fun-I’m-having-on-my-vacation pics where I posed against things, so I took a sombre and pretentious pic of myself in the hotel room instead.
All in all, it was a wonderful trip! The weather was pretty nice for November, and lots of cool things happened. Yay! But I felt really sorry for some of the stray cats - there were cats everywhere!
Oh! And this must be the fattest, laziest pigeon I’ve ever seen. He couldn’t even be arsed to move away when I came closer. Beachlife is way too good for the birdies.
